Page 29 of Payback

The duke chuckled. “I expect not, and he’ll have a jolly hard time trying to make you sign one when you turn eighteen unless you work for him in some capacity!”

Realization dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. Was this why he had offered me an internship? To get me to sign one of his non-disclosure agreements when I turned eighteen? The more I learned about Rudolph, the more disgusting I found the old creep. Perhaps he was waiting until neither Mom nor I could expose him before making us both suffer.

The duke remained lively throughout lunch. He gave me a tour of his house and gardens, pointing out items of historical interest. The pride and enthusiasm for his family history shone in his bright, blue eyes and in his voice. He displayed a level of exuberance I’d never seen in Edward.

I squeezed Edward’s hand and gave him a warm smile. It was no surprise he was so serious when he lived under a cloud of bereavement, family illness, and the thieving, conniving Mr. Chaloner. Maybe a few more days like this in the summer would lift his spirits.

At the end of the tour, we stood in a marble reception hall nearly identical to the one in the main teaching block. The duke turned to his nurse and chuckled. “I’m a terrible influence. Shouldn’t you both be in lessons?”

“We have free periods this afternoon,” I lied.

“Then it’s lucky for me.” He turned to the butler. “Afternoon tea for four, Reginald.”

We retired into a drawing room with views of a garden of pink roses climbing over arched frames among a riot of rose bushes of every color imaginable. Later, Reginald the butler brought in a three-tiered cake stand containing finger sandwiches, scones, macarons, and delicate cakes. As he poured us cups of tea from a china pot, the duke asked, “Are you still chums with little Henry?”

Edward smiled. “Henry’s six-four now, and the captain of the rugby team.”

“That little cherub?” His face broke out into a wide grin. “I’d like to see that!”

Edward pulled out his smartphone and swiped through his pictures until he found a group he had taken during one of the rugby matches. “Bring him along the next time. And Blake.”

Later, as the sun dipped behind a group of fluffy clouds, the duke’s eyelids grew heavy, and the nurse announced it was a side effect of his medication and time for his nap. We left and made our way back to the academy on foot.

I looped my arm through Edward’s as we walked along a gravel path bordering the woods. “Will the new drug cure him?”

Edward shook his head. “There’s no cure for his condition. Unfortunately, drugs only reduce the symptoms.”

We passed a small meadow of blue, purple, and pink wildflowers. Edward let go of my hand. Beyond it, men wearing khaki jackets stared up into the skies. One of them pointed a long-barreled shotgun at a flock of passing birds, while the other carried what might have been a dead pheasant. I couldn’t tell from the distance.

I intertwined my fingers with his. “I’m so glad you got the chance to speak with him.”

“As am I. It’s been years since he last recognized me.” He stopped by the edge of the path and pulled out his penknife.

“What are you doing?”

“Picking you a bunch of flowers.” Edward walked farther into the meadow.

A large hand clamped around my mouth, and a thick arm looped around my waist. Panic spiked through my heart, and adrenaline surged through my veins. The stench of alcohol and stale tobacco filled my nostrils. I jerked in my assailant’s grip, but he was too strong, too determined.

This could only be one person: Mr. Carbuncle, who had come to abduct me for his million-pound ransom.

I let out a scream through my nose. Edward shot out from among the wildflowers and raced toward me with murder in his eyes.

“Carbuncle,” Edward roared. “Let go of Emilia, or I’ll have you shot.”

Still with his arms crushing me to his apish chest, Mr. Carbuncle turned and ran into the woods. I wriggled and jerked and thrashed in his grip.

“Stay still,” he hissed into my ear. “Don’t move, or I’ll make things worse for you.”

A gunshot pierced through the air, and everybody froze.

Chapter 9

The former caretaker’s heart pounded against my back as though trying to break through my ribcage. My own heart skittered, needing an escape, and rapid breaths concertinaed in and out my lungs. His filthy hands clamped harder around my mouth, and the acrid scent of strong urine and stale tobacco burned through my sinuses. My eyes watered, both from fear and from the stench.

No other gunshots followed the first, and Mr. Carbuncle turned around, still clutching me to his chest. Now, I was both his captive and his shield.

The two men in khaki hunting clothes sprinted forward. The one carrying the gun pointed his rifle at us.